Watts watched the pictures move, and his grip around the crystal ball grew tighter and tighter. If he squeezed any harder, he’d crush it into glittering shards. But he didn’t. Instead, he watched. And watched.
Ansen Kane had a gun in his hand, and Watts’s men lined the sides of the dusty street, all of them with holes in their heads—smack dab between the eyes. These holes leaked vibrant crimson blood.
Standing opposite of Kane was—
“Me,” Watts said. “He’s going to kill me.”
Yes, him, and he was empty-handed. His gun was far behind him, rendered useless by one of the knight’s slugs.
Kane’s face was gaunt and haggard. He snarled as he took aim at Watts. His lips moved, but Watts couldn’t hear what he said, and then the barrel of his revolver burst in a great bellow of fire. Watts dropped to his knees clutching his stomach. His tan colored shirt blossomed with red. Tears filled his eyes.
Kane shot two more times. Each bullet took Watts in his thighs, one in each, and he fell in the dirt face-first. Slowly, Kane walked up the road, reloading with deft fingers. When he reached Watts, he kicked him over. Watts begged and pleaded for his life.
Kane didn’t reply with words.
He pulled the trigger of his revolver and, this close, Watts’s head exploded in a glut of blood and brains.
In the present, at the corner table of the Proudpost, Watts jumped, shouting in agony. His head filled with a phantom pain. He clapped his hands to his brow, feeling the cold sweat there.
The three or so patrons in the bar looked at him curiously. When he looked at them, they quickly turned their heads and went back to staring at the drinks on the tables in front of them.
Disgusted, Watts pushed the crystal ball away. It rolled off the table and fell to the seat opposite, unbroken. Much good that did; the images he had seen were permanently etched in his mind.
It’s not definite, he told himself. The ball just shows what could happen. You can still prevent it. You can do something!
He stood, almost not wanting to pick the ball back up. He did, though, and shoved it in his jacket pocket.
A decision had been made. He would wait no longer for the crown to reach the outer lands. He would take matters into his own hands, he would kill Kane before Kane had the opportunity to kill him, and if they chose not to pay him because of it, then so be it…at least he would still have his life. On that, there was no price.
Ansen Kane would hang, and he would hang soon.
Chapter 15
The Road
Hungover, Dolan saw Isaac off. He hugged him tight and said, “Take care of yourself, lad.”
“Thank you, Dolan. Thank you for everything,” Isaac replied, hugging him back.
As his final gift, Dolan led out the same horse he had been feeding sugar cubes to two days prior. The gelding had a white coat and a golden mane. He was one of the most beautiful horses Isaac had ever seen, and he took a liking to Isaac almost instantly.
“You mean it?” Isaac asked Dolan as he handed Isaac the reins.
“Maybe I’m still a bit drunk, but yes, I do. Lightning here just gives me trouble. He’s not meant to be cooped up in a loud city, he’s meant to be out on the road, in the open country.”
Isaac hugged Dolan again, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.
“Go on, climb up!” Dolan said.
Isaac did. The transition was easy. He was not an experienced rider, but Lightning was an experienced bearer. He accepted Isaac as if he’d known him for years.
He stroked the horse’s mane. “Good boy,” he said. “Good boy.”
“When it’s all over, you’ll come back, won’t you?” Dolan asked.
From the saddle, Isaac nodded.
His heart ached with the thought of leaving Dolan and the city. Both he and it had been there for him at a crucial point in his life. Without his mother for the first time ever, Isaac had found Dolan, and the man helped fill the void that her loss had left. Now strange days lay before him.
He met Swan at the front gates. She shook his hand with bone-crackling force.
“We have a hard day’s riding ahead of us,” she said, “but I’m sure you can handle it.”
He could. Barely.
Most of the day, they rode in silence. Her mare was bigger than Lightning, but Lightning held his own. Once they were away from the city, the traffic thinned, and they rode with more force and speed.
They stopped once at noon for food and rest, but even then, it wasn’t for long. In the distance, mountains rose to the sky. Isaac had never seen mountains before, except in his books, which were all mostly ash now.
The sight of the formations zapped his breath away, how they seemed taller than the clouds, how their peaks were dusted with snow. It was like looking at an entirely different world, a much different one from the farmland he had grown up on. He wished his mother was here with him, seeing this, sharing the moment. Part of him thought maybe she was here, watching over him, keeping him safe, guiding him. Another part knew she was dead and gone, back to the nothingness all humans had come from.
More riding.
Twilight was upon them. They were cutting through a large forest. The road had narrowed, and the dark between the trees was complete.
“We can rest here for the night. We’ll pick up at dawn,” Swan said.
Isaac was relieved. He didn’t want to show it, but he could’ve dropped to his knees and screamed with joy. Riding horseback was not something he was used to, and the soreness in his inner thighs and his groin proved it.
“Up ahead,” Swan said.
She dismounted her mare and led her by the reins, moving her off the road. Isaac did the same thing. When his feet hit the ground, he almost lost his balance. His muscles were asleep and weak, prickling with pins and needles. Unfortunately, Swan saw him stumble, and she chuckled to herself.
They found a clearing about an eighth of a mile into the forest. The place was alive with the sounds of buzzing, chirruping, and rustling leaves. In truth, it was quite scary to Isaac. Had he been alone, he probably would’ve stayed on the road, especially after the incident with the bandit on his way to Track City.
“Get a fire started, will you?” Swan said.
Isaac nodded. He grabbed some wood that lay scattered on the forest floor and stacked the pieces up and surrounded them with a ring of rocks. He lit the kindling, cupped his hand around the spark, and blew. Soon, the flame blossomed beautifully and the warmth radiated out toward him.
“Not entirely useless,” Swan said, smiling.
She was in the process of taking off her armor. Isaac tried his best not to look, but it wasn’t an easy task. Beneath her chest plate and gauntlets, she was quite slim. She had broad shoulders, a tiny waist, and curved hips.
“Not polite to stare,” she told him.
“Uh—sorry.”
Swan shook her head. “Tell me, Isaac, have you ever killed a man?”
“No.”
But he was thinking about the bandit that had attacked him, and how the gun had gone off and blown the man’s head to pieces. Isaac hadn’t pulled the trigger, but somehow, he thought he was guilty of murder nonetheless.
“I have,” Swan said. “I have killed many men. It’s hard at first, but once you get the hang of it, it grows much easier.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you were staring at me.”
Quickly wanting to change the subject, Isaac said, “Why are you heading out this way?”
“Because I’ve been hired for a job.”
“Why are you really heading out this way?” he prodded.
“Because I hate home.” Swan smirked.
Isaac nodded. “And the job? What is it?”
“An official wrote me and asked for protection. Groups of bandits have been coming in and stealing crops, money, and women. Their own militia is useless for protection.”
“And you’re going to take them out by yourself?”
�
��That’s what they pay me for,” Swan answered.
She sat down, leaning up against a boulder. She put her hands out toward the fire and rubbed them together. In the orange glow, Isaac saw how scarred they were.
“And why are you heading toward the Infected Lands?” she asked.
“To find someone.”
“Who?”
“I’m not sure yet, but when I see him, I think I’ll know,” Isaac answered.
Rather, the weapon in my bag will know.
“Is it your father?”
“No…” he answered. “I’m not sure. I never knew my father. It was just me and my mother.”
“Lucky. My father is a righteous prick.”
“Why?”
“He has tried to marry me off ever since I was your age. Parties and balls and gowns and dresses and girdles. That’s not what I’m about. I am not interested in a life of luxury, stationed within a comfortable bubble of bliss. When I left home, he said he would disown me. So far, he has kept his word. I do see and hear from my mother from time to time, though. She is a sweetheart.”
“Do you originally come from Track City? I mean, your family?”
Swan nodded. “We do. Born and raised.”
“I like it there.”
“You wouldn’t if you’d lived there your whole life, Isaac. There’s a whole wide world out of its gates. You would be doing the Creators a disservice if you never left the east.”
“Tell me about it. Just a few days ago, I was on a farm I only left once or twice a year.”
“Oof,” Swan said. “Tough.”
“You know, I wouldn’t trade that for the world, though. I enjoy comfort.”
“Well, the world is not a comfortable place. If you enjoy living so much, what the hell are you doing out here with me right now?”
“Fulfilling a promise,” Isaac answered.
* * *
They decided not to keep watch. Swan said this part of the road was not particularly dangerous. They fell asleep easily enough, on opposite sides of the fire. The day’s riding had left them exhausted.
Isaac slept on his bedroll with Lightning’s saddle as his pillow. He kept the burlap bag under one of his arms, feeling the sharp edges of the wooden box containing the revolver. This was a comfort to him.
His sleep was dreamless; or if he had any dreams, he didn’t remember them. After a few hours, he awoke with a dry throat and chapped lips. The fire had died down to glowing embers, and the night air brought a slight shiver to his skin.
He sat up, his back and legs aching greatly as he did so, and grabbed his waterskin to take a drink. When he raised it to his lips, he heard distant footsteps and soft voices carried on the cold wind. His heart jumped. He dropped the waterskin and reached for his sword.
In the darkness of the forest, a faint light glowed.
The thought of waking Swan never occurred to him. In seconds, he was on his feet, creeping toward that soft light, drawn to it like a moth to flame.
The procession of glowing figures headed south, deeper into the forest. Isaac watched from behind the trunk of a great oak tree. He squinted, not believing what he was seeing.
Unaware of his own voice, he whispered, “The Dwellers of Light.”
How many times had he scanned his books for them? Too many to count. The Dwellers were an ancient race, practicers of a great magic. They were no one’s enemy nor ally, and it was said that their voices held the world together. To see one, let alone a migrating group of them, was rarer than stumbling upon a gun knight’s weapon.
Tears filled Isaac’s eyes as he looked on. The figures were so beautiful, so radiant. They stood taller than most men. Their hair was long and as fine as silk, their eyes a deep violet, their cheekbones high and proud. The song they sang was somber and sad to his ears. His heart ached for them as well as with them.
Then the singing stopped, and the procession of Dwellers with it. The lead Dweller turned around. He was a male of innumerable years, yet he looked no older than a middle-aged human.
“Do not hide, Isaac Bleake. Your presence is both welcome and expected,” the lead Dweller said. “I am Elendar. Come and grace us, Isaac of Bleake Farm!”
Isaac pinched himself. He thought he was dreaming.
A real life Dweller was calling his name…but how did he know it? And how was his presence ‘expected’?
“Do not be shy, young warrior!” Elendar continued.
The others looked on with somber smiles and sadness in their eyes. For a short moment, Isaac thought of turning and running back to camp. He was not prepared for such a meeting. But he was different now, no longer the scared child confined to the few acres that comprised his and his mother’s farm.
He was a world traveler, a warrior, a man.
So he stepped out from behind the cover of the tree and walked until he was visible.
The Dwellers were somehow more beautiful up close. Living, breathing works of art.
Isaac fumbled and nearly fell as he tried to bow.
Elendar laughed. “Do not bow to us, friend.”
“Sorry,” Isaac said.
There were twelve Dwellers in various silken robes of earthen colors: brown, green, yellow. Six males and six females.
“I am honored to meet you,” he told them.
“We are honored to meet you, Isaac Bleake.”
“How do you know my name?”
Elendar stepped toward him, seeming to grow taller and taller with each footfall.
“We have seen you.”
“How?”
He still couldn’t believe he was talking with a Dweller.
“Why, our magic, of course,” Elendar said. “Dark times are coming. A dead king has risen, and he is growing stronger and more powerful by the constant hand of the clock. It is only a matter of time before the White Tree of Truth falls, and the land we know and love is forsaken.”
“What? That can’t be right,” Isaac said.
It would only occur to him later that he had refuted the claim of a mystical being such as a Dweller, and only later would he want to go back and punch his past self in the face.
“I speak the truth, I am afraid. We have all seen it in the Leaves. The Aura is changing, turning darker and darker with each rotation of the world.”
The other Dwellers nodded, that sad look in their eyes deepening.
“Where do I fit in to all of this?” asked Isaac.
Elendar reached out and brushed Isaac’s cheek tenderly. “My dear boy, that is up to you. You have been tasked with delivering help to a great man, but your role in this story will not end there. You have a long road ahead.”
“What do you mean? Must you speak in such riddles?”
“I only speak in truth, Isaac. We have seen the events that may unfold before you, but we have not seen the results. Our magic is not so advanced.”
“Then why do you leave? Is that not what you’re doing, leaving the forest and the world?”
“Smart you are, boy,” Elendar said.
“So you have no hope. You’re giving up.”
A female Dweller stepped from the line. “It is time for us to move on, Isaac Bleake. This world is beautiful, but darkness threatens it, as it has done time and time again throughout the annals of history. No more, no less.”
“Can’t you help? Can’t you take the darkness away?”
The female Dweller grabbed his hand. Her flesh was soft and smoother than the finest silks in the richest kingdoms.
“We cannot. It is not our war to fight. As much as we value the humans, it is against our nature to interfere.”
Isaac’s heart grew heavy. The tears that had filled his eyes now trailed down his cheeks.
“Please,” he begged. “I am no hero. I don’t know the first thing about fighting a dark lord or keeping evil away.”
“When the time comes, you will reach down inside yourself,” Elendar tapped Isaac’s chest with a slender finger, “and you will pull the courage and strength
and heroism from within your beating heart and you will prove a great many people wrong, Isaac Bleake. But only you, and you alone, can do that. Now we must be going, human friend. You will not be forgotten amongst us. If all shall go in your favor, your face and legend will live on for eternity.”
The female Dweller raised a hand. “There is but one thing I can do. And if it proves to be useful to you…only time can tell.”
“Yes, anything.”
“I cannot fight by your side. I cannot stare down the evil that will try its best to consume you. But I can give you this gift,” the female Dweller said.
“Aen, you cannot. It is against our code—” Elendar protested, but Aen waved him away.
“I can do as I please, Elendar. The truth of the matter is that this may not prove to be a gift at all, but a curse.” She looked at Isaac. “Are you ready, dear boy?”
He nodded solemnly.
She reached out and touched a finger lightly to his temple.
The others crowded closer.
A feeling of static electricity rippled through Isaac’s head. The hairs on the back of his neck and on his scalp stood tall. In his mind, he saw falling golden leaves, shining bright in an autumnal sun.
“There,” Aen said. “I have given you a limited gift of prescience. Not all that comes to you will be true; mostly, you will see these visions as dreams or nightmares, but I believe you will be able to find some use for them, on your journey.”
“Prescience? I’ll be able to see the future?” Isaac asked.
“For a time. We Dwellers are built much differently than the humans, so I am not sure how long it will last, this gift, but for now, during this crucial point in your grand quest, it will be strong. For that, I think you will be grateful.”
He nodded. “May I kiss your hand, milady?”
Aen smiled wide. Her teeth were perfect, her lips rose red. “I would be honored.”
The same hand she had used to pass on her gift, she raised in front of Isaac. He took it gently and kissed it just as gently. His cheeks blushed deeply as he looked up at the breathtaking Dweller. Her skin remained the smooth color of cream.
“You will go far, Isaac Bleake,” Aen said. “But my most grumpy companion Elendar is right: we must be going.”
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